


Forgotten

by sunandmoongobrrr



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Its literally just angst, Not Canon Compliant, Post-War, ok this is just a lot of angst ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunandmoongobrrr/pseuds/sunandmoongobrrr
Summary: If she could find the words, she would tell him everything.The damage done by Azula's lightning causes Zuko to lose his memories, and Katara to lose Zuko.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Forgotten

_When the sun fell in love with the moon, he smiled._

_And he said thank you._

_And in the blazing courtyard, underneath a red sky, they held each other._

_But caught in their orbits, they began to pull away._

* * *

“Thank you, Katara.”

If she could find the words, she would tell him everything.

She would say, “Please be okay.”

She would say, “I’m sorry I didn’t heal you sooner.”

She would say, “I thought you were dead.”

She would say, “I thought I had lost you.”

She would say, “I love you.”

But they caught back in her throat, choked by smoke and tears. And so, unsure what else to say, she repeated his words back to him. They stood, her hand on his back, and did not see the world begin to crumble behind them.

He felt it in his chest, first. A burned tingling. What was it Uncle had said? _It will burn you from the inside out_. 

“Katara,” he whispered, not loud enough to overcome the screams and fire of the girl they watched. His breath quickened, and he grasped his chest.

“Katara,” he said, louder. She heard him this time, and turned her head.

“Zuko? What’s wrong?” 

His knees buckled, and he fell towards the floor, slowed only by the strength of her grip. She called for help, and her voice shattered. She started to sob, her stomach pushing out her words in a gag.

“Please, no.” She repeated this over and over again, a last prayer, a last hope.

* * *

“He’s awake,” she was told the next day, and she jumped up from her desk and ran.

She couldn’t hide her smile. _He’s awake_ . Everything will be normal again. _He’s awake_. And she will see him smile and will hear his voice and feel him.

The scar on his chest was red and swollen. He was hissing and groaning. His uncle was holding his hand. There were healers nearby, dressed in long red robes. But they all made way for the girl with her hands held out, ready to take him in.

“Don’t,” his Uncle warned. “You need to leave.”

Her eyes sharpened into knives, and she pulled water out of a nearby pot, made it glow a bright blue on his chest. His breathing slowed, became deeper, and his eyes began to open, like sunrise. She healed him for hours, while her hands became sore and chapped.

When she was done, she found his eyes on hers. He smiled, softly, but it felt different. Her heart twinged.

“What’s your name?” he said. Like it was nothing. _Like I was no one_. She whipped her head up to his uncle, and saw for the first time how sad his eyes were, how lost.

She looked back at him, his light eyes, his smiling mouth. Unknowing, uncaring. 

“No,” she pleaded, to no one, and ran out of the room.

* * *

The next day, and the day after that, and the next, she returned to his room. There was no one who could heal him like she could, her hands blue and cool. His scar grew less swollen, calmed by the hands of the girl who would run out the room as soon as she finished. It was hard to be left again, by a boy who she thought she loved. But it would be harder to leave his shell dying and lost. 

“Hello,” he would say. And she would not respond, her eyes focused on his chest, thinking if she tried hard enough, he everything would come back to him.

Sometimes he would be asleep. And she would sit there, after healing, and watch him breathe, pretend he was himself. Pretend he would open his eyes and say her name and remember. She would reach out and wipe away the hair from his forehead, run her fingers over his sweaty skin. But the truth ached in her heart, and pushed tears down her cheeks.

“Will he ever remember?” she asked his uncle over a cup of tea, left undrunk. He was left at a loss for words, for the first time.

“I do not know,” he said, sadly.

“It’s my fault,” she closed her eyes, letting that sudden truth sink into her. If she hadn’t allowed him to fight alone, if she hadn’t appeared in the middle of the fight, if she hadn’t gone with him in the first place. If, if, if.

“No,” he said, sure and calm, “do not think such horrible things.”

* * *

“Katara.” He said it one day, when she thought he was sleeping. His voice was proud, and confident. Her mind started to swim with thoughts, but she pushed away the glow of hope.

“Who told you?” she asked cautiously.

“No one." 

Her eyes softened, and she smiled. He started to laugh, and her chest filled with pure air and light, taking him in.

“ _Zuko_.”

* * *

He does not remember everything, at first. Only the names of the people around him. He remembers that the girl used to hate him, but he does not remember exactly why, or how. He remembers his wise uncle, who dragged him through the world, which for now is only wisps of memories, and who brought him his destiny. But he does not remember the final few weeks. How the girl forgave him, how she held him in her arms, how he saved her.

She is holding his hand one day, as he lies there, rubbing his calloused knuckles.

“The Southern Raiders,” he says, carelessly at first, before the memory forms a strong wind in his mind. She closes her eyes.

“You remember.” He brings up his hand to cup her cheek, in confirmation. He remembers her, catching him in ice at the North Pole. He remembers her, reaching out to him, offering a new start, and his denial. He remembers her, blue eyes threatening, but beautiful. They sit there until his hand relaxes, and she thinks he is asleep.

She goes to leave, but when the door is about to be shut, his voice comes out.

“Katara.” 

She turns around, and sees his small smile, before he speaks again.

“Thank you.”

* * *

_When the sun fell in love with the moon, he smiled._

_And he said thank you._

_And gravity pulled them together again._


End file.
